


everything i have (i've paid for in blood)

by cactusparade



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Atonement - Freeform, Cult AU, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, and all the fun and terrible things that come with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusparade/pseuds/cactusparade
Summary: "The thoughts are always there in the back of Rook’s mind, plaguing his new life. Thoughts of when the National Guard are finally going to come, and what he’s going to do when that happens. He’s not naive enough to think the hunt stopped with the Hope County Sheriff’s department, that Joseph Seed isn’t still a wanted man. Rook trusts that he has a plan for that exact scenario, but that doesn’t ease Rook’s nerves. But Rook knew the second he let John in that he’d go down with the ship; it didn’t matter that it would cost him everything he fought tooth and nail to earn."An AU where Rook joins the Project, starting with the conversations at the Spread Eagle that force his hand to the morning after his Atonement.
Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	everything i have (i've paid for in blood)

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a work in progress for like a year so i decided i'm just going to post it and add more to it later if there's any interest for it. i've written a few cult au's on my profile before, but this is my favorite take on it that i've done so any similarities (themes, sentences, etc.) between them and this, that's the reason for it. i tried to make this seem darker than the others, where rook is fueled by apathy rather than curiosity and doesn't care one bit that he's going to be forced to kill the people he used to consider friends.
> 
> this is the first atonement scene that i've written and i'm really happy with how it turned out. that's also where the dubious consent comes into play because john uses the deputy to get off while atonement is happening. i label it as dubious because rook would definitely be down to bone any other time. i also go into graphic descriptions of the pain and wounds that come with atonement.
> 
> not beta'd - let me know if there's any errors or tags i should add!
> 
> p.s. the face claim for my deputy is chris john millington. he's an incredibly beautiful man so you should look him up when you get the chance.

The thoughts are always there in the back of Rook’s mind, plaguing his new life. Thoughts of when the National Guard are finally going to come, and what he’s going to do when that happens. He’s not naive enough to think the hunt stopped with the Hope County Sheriff’s department, that Joseph Seed isn’t still a wanted man. Rook trusts that he has a plan for that exact scenario, but that doesn’t ease Rook’s nerves. But Rook knew the second he let John in that he’d go down with the ship; it didn’t matter that it would cost him everything he fought tooth and nail to earn.

Because growing up wasn’t something Rook did with grace. He was born the youngest of three, unwanted, not cared for, shown no affection that wasn’t out of pity. He never learned to share, always taking and taking because kids are selfish, and some part of him will always be stunted. Most days, Rook feels feral with his need to be loved, wants to snarl and lash out with claws, act out until someone notices the broken thing inside him and loves him anyway.

Meeting John is the best and worst thing to happen to someone like Rook. Looking into his eyes is like looking in a mirror. There’s something equally broken in John, something that makes him need to break things, and Rook lets himself be one of those things because the reverential look that settles on John’s face after a new mark is made on Rook feels closer to love than anything he’s ever gotten in his life. 

It starts after a bad day, like most terribly impulsive decisions do. He feels so stretched thin that every voice grates like uncomfortable fabric. The apathy has sunk its claws deeper into Rook than it ever has before. His ears are still ringing from how many explosions it took to destroy the Revelator and his hands shake minutely from how close he came to losing Nick earlier in the day. He’s expected to make a full recovery, but that doesn’t change the fact that Rook’s momentary distraction almost got him killed. He almost cost his friend her husband and his goddaughter her father. 

The Spread Eagle is more populated than usual and for every person that comes up to clap him on the shoulder and talk to him about the progress he’s made against the cult, another comes to put a different task on his plate. A missing person here, an outpost there, random errands that put him dozens of miles out of the way of the things that take real priority. He’s done enough damage in Holland Valley that John is a daily element to his life now, droning on about Wrath and sin like he’s got all the free time in the world. Rook has to admit though: this cat and mouse game he plays with the Seeds makes his blood sing, but it sets his veins on _fire_ when it’s John. John’s violently unpredictable in a way Jacob and Faith aren’t, and Rook's self-destructive side craves attention from this beautiful and sadistic man. They’d be mutually assured destruction; he wants it more than he can articulate. 

Mary May is handing him another beer when he feels a hand on his shoulder and he barely resists the impulse to bare his teeth at the touch. The owner of the hand turns out to be a scrawny guy who looks younger than him by at least half a decade. He sits at the bar next to Rook and introduces himself without a handshake. Rook dislikes him on principle. 

“Deputy, I’m glad I caught you.” Rook snorts into his beer. It’s real fucking hard to catch him when he’s stationary at a bar. “I was out with a scouting party today and we–” 

“No.” 

“- saw... wait, what?” 

“Whatever it is, no. I’ve got enough to do as is, and I’m sure you can handle it on your own.” Rook takes great pleasure in the kid’s gob smacked expression. He takes less pleasure in the way Mary May moves closer to them to listen in on the conversation. 

“But you’re the Deputy! You’re supposed to help us fight against the cult.” 

“What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing since I got to Hope County? I’ve been fighting against the cult every day!” 

“Jesus, Dep. What’s your problem?” Mary May asks. Her posture is casual, but her face belies genuine anger. Not the frustration usually present when Rook makes her cut to the chase when telling him about cult activity, but real anger. He feels his own anger spike in response. 

The hand under the bar clenches tight enough to reopen his healing knuckles. The mostly clean bandage stains slowly until it’s more red than white. 

“ _My_ problem? I have many problems, and none of them are mine! I’ve just become the resident _hero_ ,” Rook makes sure to sneer the word, “that everyone can dump their shit onto.” 

“Takin’ care of the cult is _everybody’s_ job,” Mary May says sharply. “Everyone’s doin’ their part.” 

Rook laughs meanly. “Are they? Because who was it that got the Widowmaker back? And who rigged up the explosives that took care of the Revelator? And who’s been destroying Eden’s Gate silos? Oh, and who’s been bringing trucks filled with siphoned gas back to Fall’s End? And who was it that destroyed John’s armed convoy? That’s on top of all the _other_ mundane tasks people in the Valley give me. Face it, Mary May: I’m the only one even making a fucking dent in the cult’s fire power.” It’s a lot less tactful than Rook would normally be, especially with his allies, but sometimes you just have to say _fuck it_ and make your choices. He’s beaten and bruised and so physically tired. He realizes with a start that he misses home – _home_ home, in Michigan – and he wants to talk to his mom despite not talking with her in a decade. He wonders if his childhood bedroom is still painted blue, if his parents still even live in that house. Even at his lowest, Blissed out and hunted down by Chosen and strapped in Jacob’s chair, he never thought about wanting to see his parents. He didn’t foresee a night at the Spread Eagle being the thing to break him.

The entire bar has gone silent to listen to Rook and Mary May’s conversation. Hands are subtly reaching for weapons in case things escalate, and the want for home makes Rook’s throat burn. There’s that feral, unloved child rearing its ugly head again. 

“I cannot believe you.” Mary May beats everyone to the punch by pulling out a shotgun from behind the bar. “You think you’re so fucking special, huh?” 

“ _Think_? The proof is all around you!” He sweeps his arms wide to encompass everything surrounding him. Mary May looks murderous, so he digs out his wallet to pay for his drinks. He even leaves a generous tip because he’s nothing if not a gentleman and because he hasn’t been forced to spend the cash from his latest prepper stash yet. He exits without a word before she can shoot him. There wouldn’t be a warning shot; Rook knows better than anyone how expensive ammo is. 

The Montana air is humid despite the late hour, Rook’s clothing sticking to his skin unpleasantly. The noise in the Spread Eagle picks up again as he walks away, and he can only imagine what’s being said. Probably that he’s a bastard who’s lost his mind. 

Maybe they’re right. He doesn’t care. Rook feels more mentally sound after that conversation than he has all year. 

His radio crackles to life as he passes by Jerome’s church, boots dragging on the asphalt. “That was quite the little display, Deputy,” John says. Rook isn’t surprised it’s him.

“I don’t recall seeing you in the bar,” Rook says, but it also doesn’t surprise him that Eden’s Gate has eyes everywhere. He can only imagine how many cult members have blended in seamlessly with the Resistance, completely undetected, privy to planning that immediately gets reported back to the Heralds.

John wisely doesn’t say anything. After what just happened, the Spread Eagle would tear itself apart at the confirmation of a mole. “Are you having a change of heart? Are you finally seeing the light? Are you ready to come _home_?” 

If it were any other day, it would be no problem for Rook to brush off the Seeds’ snide comments. He’s the one that gets under their skin, not the other way around. He just can’t tonight. It feels like letting John win when he says, “Can’t you guys just _fuck off_? If an entire county is fighting against you, it’s a pretty clear indicator that you _aren’t welcome_.” 

“We’re doing what we must, Deputy. The Collapse is coming, and we must be prepared.” John doesn’t seem bothered by Rook’s anger - his Wrath - and the Seeds’ persistence suddenly goes from annoying to exhausting. 

“Yeah,” Rook says. “Yeah, I guess you have to be.” 

John’s voice softens. “We don’t like the measures we have to take, but we’ve been given no choice.” 

“There’s always a choice, John.” 

“Not when God has commanded it.” 

Rook groans to himself, choosing not to transmit it over the line. “You seriously cannot be this delusional. You think God would approve of _this_?” 

“God is merciful, but he is also just. Recall the story of Noah: He wiped the slate clean and started again. Which He will do again when the Collapse comes.” The conviction shines in John’s words, a true believer in Joseph’s visions. Rook wonders what that’s like. He also wonders when that devotion will get him killed, and if Joseph will even feel bad about it. “Come and listen to one of the Father’s sermons; it will help you understand.” 

The spiteful and rational part of Rook’s brain knows no amount of preaching will get him to believe in God. That ship sailed years ago and no fancy words will ever change that. The other part of his brain that shivers whenever John’s voice comes through the radio is _screaming_ at him to do it, to get closer to the Seeds - to _John_. He remembers everything he learned about cults in his intro to psychology class, how they prey on the weak and vulnerable. He doesn’t want that to be him but he’s self-aware enough to know it is. The broken child in him _wants_ , wants to be _wanted_ , and that’s exactly what’s being offered. 

“When’s his next sermon?” Rook asks. Resigned, knowing he’s sealing his fate. 

“Sunday. But I can give you a place to stay until then,” John says. He sounds elated to be the one bringing Rook in. 

“Okay,” Rook agrees easily. Any place is better than the abandoned and decrepit houses strewn across the Valley, with dingy furniture and molding food. Rook secretly hopes John will offer up his own home. 

And maybe Rook has to rethink his stance on God because John does just that. “My ranch has more than enough space.” 

Rook realizes then he’s been heading that direction while they’ve been talking. Since before then even, his feet taking him left down the street the second he left the bar. Taking him where he wants to be. Where he’s meant to be. “I’ll be there soon.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

The radio goes silent in his hand. He raises an eyebrow when no other voices come through to ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but maybe everyone is realizing what Rook himself has realized, which is that the cult is more powerful than anyone could have believed. Or maybe it’s just that the leash the Resistance kept Rook on has finally frayed and he’s free to make his own choices for the first time since the helicopter crash.

There’s a lot of guards outside the ranch but not as many as Rook would’ve expected. They’re all heavily armed, guns ready but not drawn as he approaches, though he has no doubt there are snipers with their scopes trained on him. The front door opens and John steps out. The crowd of guards parts so Rook can move to meet him. John looks like he didn’t actually expect Rook to show up. 

“Deputy Rook, I’m glad you came.” He steps forward so there’s an arm’s length of distance between them but does nothing else, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. 

Rook takes pity and holds out a hand. “Jonah Rook, former Hope County Junior Deputy. Nice to formally meet you.” 

John lights up, his expression so open and soft under the harsh illumination of the ranch’s flood lights. Rook’s only thought is that he’s beautiful. “John Seed, formerly John Duncan, lawyer. Welcome to my home. Please, make yourself comfortable.” 

John, uncaring of personal space now that Rook initiated contact, releases Rook’s hand and places his own on Rook’s lower back to guide him inside. Rook finds he doesn’t much mind.

* * *

Rook wakes up from the best sleep he’s ever had in his life to the sun shining brightly through the curtains. He’s in one of John’s numerous guest rooms in a king bed with silk sheets like his life is some kind of movie. The perks of being rich never stops, it seems.

His watch tells him it’s just past eleven, a later start than he’s had since he got stuck here. He’s been burning the candle at both ends every day, averaging five or less hours of sleep most nights and surviving on whatever naps he can sneak during the day. He remembers the blowout at the Spread Eagle, how he ended up in this bed at this house, enjoying the comforts John has provided for him. He can’t find it in himself to care. The guilt he’s been carrying has disappeared so completely that he feels almost empty without it.

A trip to the bathroom shows that it’s been stocked for his stay. Towels, toiletries, and a giant shower that he takes full advantage of. There’s even a stack of clothes that fit so perfectly and are so in line with what he used to wear that he wonders if someone ransacked his - most likely foreclosed - house. Whatever the case is, Rook is glad to be out of ill-fitting and ragged clothes pilfered from empty houses. 

Going downstairs shows him that the ranch is every bit as lavish and unnecessary as he expected it to be, more wealth accumulated in one area than Rook will ever earn in his life. _He better have more than one Greed scar_.

“I imagined you’d have armed guards outside my door,” Rook says when he sees John at the kitchen table with papers spread out around him, and he’s only half joking. “Thank you for the clothes, by the way.” 

“You’re welcome.” John briefly looks up from his papers to meet Rook’s eyes. “As for the guards, that would hardly make you feel welcome. The goal is for you to want to be here, Rook. This doesn’t work if you don’t.” 

That’s fair, but Rook wouldn’t have come to John Seed’s home if some part of him didn’t want to. He may be terribly impulsive, but he isn’t a pushover. As much as he bitched to himself, liberating outposts and finding stashes was _fun_. “I want to be here.” 

“I’m glad you’ve realized that we’re only trying to help everyone, even if the people of this county scorn and reject us. They’ll thank us when they survive.” 

Rook doubts that but keeps it to himself. Seven years coexisting in a bunker with irate citizens sounds like a recipe for disaster but if Joseph won’t be swayed, his family won’t either. “What are you doing?” Rook asks instead, taking a seat opposite John. 

“Looking at plans to rebuild what _you_ destroyed,” John says, sharp and reprimanding, and _there’s_ that hint of violence Rook knows lurks just under the surface. “The silos are a lost cause, but roadblocks will be easy to replace. Outposts, too.” 

“I could help with the outposts,” Rook offers. The words hang in the air for a beat, but Rook doesn’t want to take them back. 

“Really?” 

Rook nods. “Just tell me where to start.” 

John’s grin is razor sharp.

* * *

The railyard is Eden’s Gate’s again. Every civilian who tried to defend it lays dead, bodies cooling while cult reinforcements come to collect them. They went in guns blazing, seizing the element of surprise to pick people off before they registered what was happening. The cult suffered a few casualties, but most are uninjured. Rook’s not one of them. There was a moment where nobody was watching his six and somebody jumped off a train car onto his back. He slammed the person against the car they jumped from but it didn’t stun them for long. He took the barrel of their shotgun to his jaw before a Peggie noticed and put a bullet through their skull. His injury is a throbbing pain that’ll bruise within the hour, but all the blood on him belongs to other people. 

Looking at the corpses around him should make him feel sick. It doesn’t. These people were his allies a week ago and now they’re just in his way. He wishes he could be disgusted with himself, wishes he could feel much of anything as he talks quickly with a cult VIP and snags a truck to head back to John’s ranch. Cult music drones on quietly in the background, a song about washing away sins. Rook wonders how many sins a person is allotted before no amount of atonement and baptisms can unstain a soul. 

A monster by any other name is still as monstrous, still as vicious and ugly. Rook is rotten to the core. All the bodies left in his wake prove it.

“Are you injured?” Is the first thing John asks when Rook walks through the door. He grabs Rook tightly by jaw and Rook hisses, fists clenching involuntarily. John’s grip tightens before he lets go. “Rook?” 

“The blood’s not mine,” Rook says. Then, as an afterthought: “The railyard is ours.” 

“Elijah already radioed it to Joseph.” Elijah must be the VIP he talked to before heading out. His unkempt face has already faded into the background of Rook’s head, one of hundreds that all look vaguely similar. “Congratulations on successfully completing your first task.” 

Rook nods. His hands are stiff from the blood dried on them. “Outposts are easy.” 

“Good. There’s a dozen more for you to take back. After Atonement, of course.” His smile is far too predatory for such a throwaway comment. 

“Atonement, right.” Rook scratches at the blood and watches it flake onto the floor. “When’s that happening?” 

“Tomorrow night, after Joseph's sermon.” 

When Rook envisioned Atonement, whether it happened by force or choice, he was sure dread would sit like a stone in his stomach. Right now, he just feels lighter than he deserves. “What’s the next task?” 

“The Spread Eagle, after you’ve proved yourself further.” 

Rook’s blood starts to sing. He doesn’t care about the contingency; he’ll prove himself a hundred times over if it means earning the trust of the Seeds. “Walk me through your plan anyway.”

* * *

Joseph’s sermon is about finding the light in dark times and with it, a sense of loyalty. He only makes eye contact with Rook a handful of times during his sermon, but Rook can tell it’s tailored to him. His tangent about resisting your deepest sins and then naming wrath specifically makes it pretty fucking obvious. But towards the end, Joseph preaches about finding a home in Eden’s Gate after being rejected by traditional religions and family. _Each of us have carried labels designed to minimize, marginalize, dehumanize, or separate us_. That hits Rook harder than he wants to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind. 

Joseph talks with members of his flock after the sermon ends, speaking quietly with them to reassure them of their faith and their place within the Project. He makes time for each of them while also gently urging them out of his church so Rook’s Atonement can begin. 

After the last of the congregation leaves, Joseph, John, Jacob, and Faith are staring down at Rook where he sits in the first pew. It’s reminiscent of the botched arrest and it sends chills down his spine. Everything Rook’s done so far has been done by his own freewill but that doesn’t stop him feeling like he’s a wounded animal caught in a snare.

“Are you ready for Atonement, my child?” Joseph’s hand reaches out, encouraging but not pulling. Leaving the final choice up to Rook, as if Rook didn’t renounce everything he knew when he willingly walked into John’s home. 

Rook stands up and crosses the distance, leaving behind his old life for this tumultuous new one. He clasps Joseph’s hand and takes a deep breath. “I’m ready to Atone.” 

“Let us begin then. John?” 

John picks up a briefcase settled next to the pulpit and indicates for Rook to remove his shirt. The rustle of the fabric is drowned out by the sound of the briefcase’s locks snapping open, and Faith guides Rook until he’s lying prone on the floor next to a kneeling John. He squirms against the temperature on his bare back; Faith holds him down by his shoulders until he finally stills.

“You will confess your sins,” John says. The scalpel he pulls out gleams in the light, brand new and brutally sharp. A hint of terror finally bursts through the apathy and he takes a moment to remind himself that he chose this. This will be his life going forward. “You will confess them all and after each one has been etched onto your flesh by my hand, you will reach Atonement.” John shuffles on his knees until he gets to Rook and straddles him to settle on top of his hips. Rook instinctively places his hands on John’s thighs, feeling the scratch of denim under his palms and on his abdomen. He can tell by the pinched look on Jacob’s face that this isn’t normal, but then again, nothing about this situation is normal. Eden’s Gate has never brought such a predator so low before.

“Confess, Rook,” Joseph says near Rook’s feet, his body blocked by John.

Rook takes a fortifying breath, and then another, and closes his eyes and starts to talk.

“You say my sin is Wrath, but I don’t… It's only a side effect to me. My parents, they- they didn’t want me, not like they wanted my brothers. I was a burden to them. I had to work so much harder to get even a fraction of the attention my brothers did. I was good, I was bad, I did everything I could think of… I just wanted my parents to love me. I never learned to do things in moderation because of them. Nothing is never enough, and I always want more, no matter what. I've felt empty my whole life; I don’t know how to want things like a normal person. I guess that’s considered Greed.”

The blade is so sharp that the first slice into his skin is already done before the pain registers underneath his right pec. His fingers dig into John’s thighs, sure to leave bruises before the night is over, and he’s been in Hope County long enough to recognize the hair-raising sensation of blood on his skin. Rook knows, somewhere deep in his mind, that John is marking him deep enough to scar but not deep enough to make him bleed out before Atonement is over. He wonders how many times John’s done this to be able to perfect the technique. There’s no respite after the first line of whatever sin he’s started, Rook doing his best to keep still as the pain grows stronger. Blood runs down his side until it drips into a small puddle atop the wood flooring. 

The scalpel finally pauses and a wet hand grabs at his jaw, Rook's own blood being forcibly matted into his beard. That hand tenderly strokes down his chest, smearing blood all the way, until it rests on his stomach, palm brushing the edge of his jeans. He forces his eyes open and sees only John, the intensity in his eyes like he's working on his life's masterpiece. Any walls that Rook's ever erected around himself crumble to nothing in the face of such a devoted look. He would do anything to keep that look dedicated solely to him. He'd damn himself if he was sure he hadn't already.

He takes a minute to focus. Tries to think through the mess that was his childhood to get to the sins that guide him. Every word is spoken directly to John. "Wrath and Pride are equal to me. They're both caused by apathy. It's been there since… forever, I guess. It comes and goes, and I thought, thought maybe Hope was a place to start fresh when it disappeared for a bit. But it always fucking comes back," Rook bites out. "I got three months of peace and it came back. With a fucking vengeance too, like it always does. And that's when I get destructive - _Wrathful_ \- because things never feel like they have consequences when I feel like that. 

"When I'm on that warpath, people get hurt. And I don't care, because I can't. I can't make myself care about anything. Then after the apathy is back at a manageable level, I refuse to apologize for anything. People around me are just collateral, and I'd rather eat a bullet than swallow my Pride."

So focused on the youngest Seed brother, Rook doesn't see Jacob approach until he's yanking Rook's left arm away from John and pinning it to the floor, elbow and wrist face up. John immediately begins carving a sin into his inner bicep, and Rook can't help the way he jerks his whole body. The pain comes quicker than before, the flesh there so incredibly tender, but both Jacob and John keep him immobilized. Each cut seems deeper than the last, and Rook face aches from trying to grit his teeth against it. The first sin is a dull ache compared to the fire of this second one. 

John moves back to work on his hip, and Rook tries to put himself into a calm headspace. It doesn’t work, the pain shattering his concentration, but he visualizes good times from his childhood. Times spent playing football with his brothers, climbing trees, swimming in Lake Michigan, every Coast Guard Festival he attended with old friends he hasn’t talked to in a decade. The memories taint themselves in his mind as his brain starts to associate them with the pain. His hands spasm and he starts to cry aloud, the blood spilling simultaneously baptizing him and making him itch.

There's the faintest pause as more bodies come to pin him down, knees on his shoulders and hands on his wrists with someone's full weight on his shins. Rook can only continue to stare at John, memorizing the hungry look on his face and, when Rook looks down, the hard line of his dick outlined in his designer jeans. He feels out of his mind. He knows he’s going to pass out soon.

The tip of the scalpel presses lightly just below his collarbones before John starts his work again. It's _agony_ , dragging lines that never seem to end, that gouge so deeply he wonders if he's going to die. His body's thrashing and there's screaming, and oh, that must be _him. His_ screams that make it sound like someone's being ripped apart. He figures that's half true - the old him is being ripped apart to make way for the new him, this new person who will be the attack dog for Eden's Gate, will give his life for the Project. His next scream cracks as it leaves his throat and through the ringing in his ears, Rook can hear a ragged moan of " _Yes, Yes, Yes_ ". John is shifting above him, grinding against him in lurching little thrusts. 

With a final excruciating pull of his wrist, John sets the scalpel down next to Rook and lays one hand on top of the wound he just finished and the other on Rook's bicep. He presses as hard as he can on both and Rook can't stop the inhumane noise that _claws_ its way out of him. His back bows, nearly unseating John, but John just uses the motion for one final climaxing thrust. His moan mixes with Rook's anguished cries until Rook finally blacks out and his body slumps back down. 

* * *

The next time Rook wakes up, he's in John's guest room and his wounds are pristinely bandaged. They throb with every heartbeat and he desperately wants to see how red and angry they are, wants the irrefutable proof of the consequences for the choices he's made. When he painstakingly gets himself out of bed, Rook wonders if it’s blasphemous to think his Atonement was done where it was on purpose. That his blood was meant to seep into the floor and sanctify Joseph’s church. He is the final piece, the prophesied Wrath made clean and new for Eden's Gate. His will is now the Will of The Father.

**Author's Note:**

> the sins in the order that rook gets them are greed, pride, sloth, and wrath for any curious
> 
> side note: although mentioned in a throwaway line, the coast guard festival is actually a really great time so if you're ever in michigan and you get the chance to go, i'd highly recommend!
> 
> another side note: i have spent many, many hours reading far cry fanfic and it all kinda starts to blend together, so if there's any similarities between this story and stories by other authors, it's completely unintentional
> 
> i hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! please let me know if you'd like for me to continue this au
> 
> [my tumblr](https://cactusparade.tumblr.com)


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